What Do You See?
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: "Have you ever looked in a mirror, and wished it could talk back to you? I have. The one who looks back is not me, though he wears my face." Unable to cope with the loss of his own living mirror, George finds an unusual coping strategy that slowly devolves into a situation that threatens his own family. Darker than my normal fare of fanfics, & rather AU. Do enjoy.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Associated Characters.**

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So... uni has been difficult recently, but tonight for some reason... a simple comment sent me careening off into THIS.

It's a**_ teensy bit DARK_**, and rather **_AU_**. But we all see angsty or sad George, 'learning to cope' George and 'supported by friends and family George'... I wanted to be different.

Enjoy.

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**~*What Do You See?*~**

**~)0(~**

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Have you ever looked in a mirror, and wished it could talk back to you?

Seen the face on the other side pierce through the veil of deceptions you shroud yourself in, and really see you... as you are... through eyes that have seen too much?

I have.

~)0(~

The one who looks back is not me, though he wears my face, my body, my mannerisms... he is someone I have lost along the way to where I stand now, in turmoil. A voluntary soldier who fell during a battle that never should have been but for one mortal man's greed...

~)0(~

He never smiles anymore.

.

...It breaks my heart...

A physical ache worming deep inside my chest that burns slowly, like a lit candle nearing the end of it's wick. Growing ever closer to going out forever...  
A perfect counterpoint to the inner light I see being suffocated within his oh-so-familiar eyes; soon to be extinguished by the weight of my failure... failures. There are so many...

He is always so sad, so pale... features tired and worn; I think he must worry for me, for he too cries when I cry at the unfairness of it all. But he always greets me with a sad smile, reflexive really, the joy of being close to one another... and then reality impedes...

Oh Fred, if only it could have been me... the one trapped behind the mirror to save you... but I don't think I could be as brave as you, to see my living reflection suffer so greatly and not being able to touch you. Tell you everything was alright...

I-I can't do this anymore...

~)0(~

Night after night I return to see you.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, eyes wide, sense lost to an over-consuming need that requires no understanding or quantifying...

Always we start with a tentative, sad smile... and then our secret movements of greeting that you mirror so very perfectly to my own actions. Though, no matter what words are spoken between us, you remain silent.

Mouth opening and closing sadly, like a gaping fish on land...

I know not if you are speaking words alongside my own, mirroring the shape of our mouth, like you would normally do... when you were still-... here. With ME.

...Or perhaps your silent ventriloquist act is your way of trying to tell me something else entirely.

If it is the latter, I feel that perhaps the sad look of indignation that crosses your features at times is born out of sheer frustration at having your words silenced by the sliver of glass that separates our two halves...

No matter... for our every confrontation always ends the same.

Without conscious recollection, as the hour strikes midnight... I am always kneeling before you, hand pressed to yours though I feel it not. Tears stream from eyes locked on your own as I desperately try to will the sensation of the warmth of your hand on my own, like when we were little and walked everywhere together -hand in hand.

Familiar and calming... something I needed more than life itself... denied forever by the cool, shining glass...

Your eyes plead with me, I see the anguish I cause you... how could I be so selfish?

I know what to do...

~)0(~

Suddenly, our private world is interrupted as I am about to join you, dear brother...

Fierce, shrieking laughter erupts from my throat... like an unholy creature has taken up residence without my permission... but I do not care.

Even as others try to take hold of me, grasping claws of flesh and fingers taking hold of limb and clothing... I cannot stop; tears stream down my face in joy, I finally understand.

Bill and Charlie do not understand, they cannot... I am sure I must look a sight... but there is a purpose to my actions, a method to my madness... I just cannot remember it.

Another set of hands tries to take it from me, but I bat them away somewhat harshly, snarling like an animal; words will not form, I cannot explain. Dear prissy Percy fights his way up out of rubble, but collapses, his middle is full of liquid rubies and large splinters...  
Something whispers he is injured, but the thought is drowned out. The gale of laughter that explodes was not aimed at him, but it seems the others thought so...

Little Ron, Ronnie-kins, Ronnie-Ronnie-Ronnie-Ronald our bouncing baby brother tries next... he is almost as tall as you Fred, but so different... he is not you. More a fun-house mirror creation than living reflection... not perfect, not you, but soon I promise.

He is talking, voice rising higher and higher to counteract my shouting... where are you Fred? I can't see you... are you there? Tell them, tell them what is going on, I'm NOT crazy,, I promise!

No, no focus...

I feel the grasp on my arm shift, so slightly for any other, but to us... like the grating of overly-starched robes on skin. We don't like it... before there is thought, we react and throw him into little Ronnie-kins... too hard. They strike the wall at an angle...

They hurt together...

The laughter is hurting now. Charlie is soothing us, no... soothing me... you are not here yet. It is working, there is calm, I can think... think about-... no! Ron, Ronnie?

Bill holds him. So pale, so limp, so sad... like you Fred, was this what you wanted to say? That I only hurt the ones I love? You were proof enough... we were a single being... and I killed you by not standing between you and that curse.  
I see the blame in your eyes, but please, let me give you another cha-...

Animalistic rage wells up as Charlie touches your only chance of release. I cannot let him...  
I strike him with it, harshly, instinctively even... and he falls like a tree in the woods. No one there to hear it, so it makes no sound.

Quiet.

There is surreal quiet, but it must be broken to save you, to release you... Charlie should not have touched it, can't risk anything going wrong now...

I taste blood in my mouth, throat raw from laughter; lightheaded from the tears. When did I last drink anything? Or Eat? I don't understand...

No, no focus. Later... we shall eat together, later...

I stop suddenly.

Bill is crying now... Neither of us had ever seen him do that before, not in our entire lives till now. Shockingly, he is near incoherent, hysterical even... just asking for forgiveness, over and over again. Puzzling... from our collective memories, he has not actually done anything wrong.

For a moment, the item falls limp in my hands, deadened by tiredness and confusion... but then purpose realigns, the laugh gets trapped within the constrictive cage of my chest wherein a heart beats frantically. A wild surge of adrenaline racing through my body.

I wish my brother no harm, none whatsoever, but I also don't want him to hurt. This paradox hurts my own mind, thoughts chasing one another round and round until something within snaps and I feel my fist lash out of it's own volition, colliding harshly against Bill's cheek.

Eyes of a close shade to our own flash past in surprise and confusion, asking why... then shut swiftly as he hits the floor by the others. Good, it is quiet once more.

The only sound is made by my ragged breathing, and the rasp of the wooden hilt of the weapon as I lift it up again in anticipation; too silent for my liking. Silence pervades and presses down like an invisible, untouchable vice...

~)0(~

I know I should never have come up here in the first place, to the attic, but I felt a strong pull one day; a calling, like siren song, almost. I knew it was you, I just felt it...

Our old wardrobe, the rickety one with ornate designs all over it some pompous rich witch or wizard had tossed as it probably no longer suited the ever-changing decor...  
Well, it was there.

It's presence in our room had been notably declined since... well... you know, Fred. Is it rude to point out your method of expiration? I just wanted to know where our parents had put it, you know? No big deal, just curious... curious George... putting his single nose where it should not belong, again.

They took it, because of the mirror. We would stare at ourselves for hours in it... trying to find something to tell ourselves apart from another perspective... no one ever understood.

But the moment I unveiled the mirror once again, I knew it was you... it HAD to be you; you were still here for me, and I needed to be there for you, too.

~)0(~

Offsetting the overpowering silence, came a more diminished laugh in comparison to previously. Tears dried into tired tracks upon my cheeks...

So close, you were there, I knew it... could feel it!

Couldn't use magic, no, might do something wrong, had to do it by hand. A pervasive giggling with a darker tone to it, began softly under my breath and slowly grew louder with each passing second as I contemplated the moment.

The others were silent as my arms automatically bore the key to your release aloft, casually hefting the sledgehammer with all the ease with which one might toss a cushion...

I could see your eyes, though only vaguely, through the murky gloom in the room; you seemed as overly excited and elated as I at that moment. Like you knew your salvation was at hand...

~)0(~

With a guttural cry of something primal, the weapon swung downwards in a slow arc that slammed into the restraining surface and shattered it once and for all. You were free, free to be with me again!

I could not see for the tears in my eyes as shards of the barrier forcing us apart flew past, or clattered to the floor useless... but I couldn't seem to see you. My lips formed the word 'free', over and over again, like a soundless chant.

Where were you? I needed you, I couldn't live without you!

In desperation, my voice rose to cry out your name just once, loudly, so as to draw you from wherever you had fallen from impact.

But nothing ever came.

You look back at me in horror from a nearby shard of glass... I have broken you! What have I done?

~)0(~

And so, I sit here in the dust, the rubble and slivers of shattered glass and quietly giggle to myself as I clutching the largest shard of you I can find, to my chest.

Your name echoes softly over and over as I rock, tears fall again though for what purpose I am not sure exactly; they just feel... right. I giggle at the thought. Or maybe I am all wrong... wrong son... wrong twin...

Wrong brother...

It strikes me as odd, I am free but you are not. But then I realise... you and I are one, I am free... so we are free...

We are free.

In a soft whisper-tone I slowly repeat the words, to drive it in.

_We are free._

~)0(~

That is how they find us, in many hours time, our parents.

Sitting on the cold, hard, dusty floor of the attic, clutching one another so tightly we bleed. Muttering happily, giggling even, though tears mar our faces...

Surrounded by the bodies and blood of our brothers.

**_Together again._**

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**The End.**

**~)0(~**

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**Well, I do hope the blurb I wrote in a great hurry coalesces into some form of story, and that you somewhat enjoyed this different view of George & Fred.**

**Even if you hated it, let me know.**

_**~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~**_


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